It's Only Love
by McLennon.My.Dear
Summary: A short McLennon fic... IDK... Featuring It's Only Love and I've Just Seen A Face. It's good, I think. Please read and review.


I am aware that this indeed had not a thing to do with The Monkees. But FanFiction doesn't seem to have any music/bandom categories (They have wrestling, but not Beatles!), and it wouldn't let me not pick a category and most Monkees fans also like The Beatles, so...

* * *

 _I get high when I see you go by_

 _My oh my_

 _When you sigh, my, my inside just flies_

 _Butterflies_

 _Why am I so shy when I'm beside you?_

"John? John!" A voice awoke John's brain from deep thought. He nervously ran his fingers through his hair. "Oh. Hey Macca." "How did you like the song?" Paul asked. John blinked. "Wha?" "Oh my God, you weren't even listening!" Paul fumed. His fingers met John's cheek in a hard slap.

"M'sorry." John mumbled, face brightening. He surveyed his surroundings. He was sitting on the bed in his cramped hotel room. Paul was sitting opposite to him, holding a guitar, looking quite angry. John's face reddened. He and Paul were dangerously close.

Paul's face softened. "Johnny, what's wrong? You've been have trouble focusing lately. I had to call your name about ten times to get your attention just then." John shook his head. "S'nothing. Stop worrying." Paul shook his head and moved his fingers along his guitar.

"I've just seen a face. I can't remember the time or place where we met. She's just the girl for me, and I want all the world to see to see we met. Mmm-mm-mmm-m'mmm-mmm"

"It was the humming that gave John a strange sensation in his pants. He briefly shook his head. Paul looked up and smiled.

"Had it been another day, I might have looked the other way, and I'd have never been aware, but as it is I'll dream of her tonight. Da-da-n'da-da'n'da."

"That sentence is too long." John muttered. Paul glanced up. "What?" "Nothing. Keep playing."

"Falling, yes I am falling, and she keeps calling me back again."

"John closed his eyes, cursing the erection he felt poking out of his pants. He tried to cross his legs, but it was still obvious what Paul's song was doing to him.

"I have never known the like of this. I've been alone, and I have missed things and kept out of sight, but other girls were never quite like this. Da-da-n'da-da'n'da"

The noises Paul was making at the end of the verse made John's heart skip a beat. He squeezed his eyes tighter."Falling, yes I am falling, and she keeps calling me back again."

It took all of John's self control not to snog Paul senseless. He took deep breaths, keeping his eyes tightly shut. Seeing Paul actually singing the song would drive him mad./p

"Falling, yes I am falling, and she keeps calling me back again."

If he heard that line again, John knew he would lose himself. His pants grew tighter by the minute.

"I've just seen a face. I can't remember the time or place where we met. She's just the girl for me, and I want all the world to see to see we met. Mmm-mm-mmm-m'mmm-mmm"

Oh god. Not the humming. John was grateful his eyes were closed.

"Falling, yes I am falling, and she keeps calling me back again. Falling, yes I am falling, and she keeps calling me back again. Falling, yes I am falling, and she keeps calling me back again."

Was it over? Was it finally over?

"John?" "Yeah?" "Open your eyes." John slowly lifted his lids. Paul was blushing. "It was about you." "What was?" "The song. It was about the day we met." "You calling my a lass?" "No. I just-" "Damn, Macca." Paul sighed. John grabbed his cheek, slowly stroking it with his finger. "It was beautiful." "Really?" "Yes, you git. I love you.

 _"It's only love and that is all_

 _Why do I feel the way I do?_

 _It's only love and that is all_

 _But it's so hard loving you_

"Paul's fingers shook. "You do?" John grinned. Yeah. His hands were still on Paul's face. Touching his lips lightly to Paul's, he whispered "I don't know why, but I do" Paul shook his head. "But you- You're not- Are you?" John simply smiled, and kissed Paul.

It wasn't a gentle kiss. John's teeth raked against the hollow of Paul's mouth. Paul slipped his tongue into John's mouth, savoring the feeling of it being sucked and toothed.

A moaning sound escaped John's lips. "Jesus, Macca." Paul made a humming noise. "We should stop." John whispered slowly. "No." Paul cupped John's bum, sending sparks running through John's cock. John took a deep breath and pulled away. Paul tried in vain not to make a squeaking noise of loss. John shook his head. We can't do this."

Suddenly, Paul stood up. His belt was undone, much to John's surprise. Paul tightened it, and kicked on his shoes. He sunk down onto the couch, tying them tightly.

"Paul. Don't do this to me." John whimpered. "Don't do what to you? Give you what you've been wanting for so long, and then just snatching it right back up?" "Yeah, that." John whined. Paul's face turned a bright shade of crimson. He stood up, and grabbed his guitar. "Please, don't leave. Don't leave, Paulie." Paul turned and threw John a dark look. "I'll let you kiss me again, I promise. Just don't leave me."

Paul's heart nearly popped out of his chest. No. He wasn't going to fall for John's stupid games. Not this time. "I don't even want to kiss you. Bloody queer." "But-" The door slammed shut.

 _Is it right that you and I should fight_

 _Every night?_

 _Just the sight of you makes nighttime bright_

 _Very bright_

 _Haven't the right to make it up girl?_

John wandered through the unfamiliar streets. Another stupid American tour. God, he didn't even know what state he was in. He kept his head low and his glasses on, hoping no crazed teenagers would spot him. It took him an hour before he gave up and slipped into a bar. Climbing up onto a bar stool, John noticed a very familiar figure next to him.

"Paulie?" The figure turned groggily to face him. "Go away, fag." Paul was drunk. Very drunk. John was certain he'd say something dumb and get himself arrested. "I'm not gay. Keep your voice down." "You just kis-" John clamped his hand over Paul's mouth. "Shut up. We're in public." Paul shrugged. "I don't care." he said, voice muffled by John's hand.

John turned to the bartender, a gruff man with a strange accent. "How much?" "You didn't order anything." "I'm paying for him." John said, nodding to Paul. Paul was too busy gulping down a whiskey to notice. "34 dollars, and 12 cents. And leave a tip too." "I'm sorry, I only have English currency." "I thought as much. With your dumb bowl cut, and stupid accent, you look just like a Beatle wannabe." "It's called a moptop." "Whatever." "Do you like The Beatles?" "No, they're a stupid boy band, but their music's alright." "I guess." "I love that one tune, I'm A Loser, isn't it? From their last album. And Please Please Me was great." John nodded, a grin touching his lips.

"The man turned away, pulling out a calculator. "Twenty quid and nine pence." He said. Jesus. Paul had drank too much. John fumbled for the money, making sure to leave a large tip.

He pulled Paul back to the hotel room. Paul was to drunk to care.

The next morning, the awoke next to each other. Ringo and George had gotten themselves a separate room, so John had gotten an opportunity to have a bit of fun with Paul the night before.

Paul rolled over, digging his nose into John's neck. "M'sorry." He mumbled. "Why?" John asked, trying to focus more on the fact that neither of them were wearing any clothes. "For yesterday." "S'fine."

"M'not queer, y'know. Unless it's you." John said softly after a few minutes. "I know. I'm not queer either. I just love you." John sighed happily into the blankets. "I love you too, Paulie."

 _It's only love and that is all_

 _Why do I feel the way I do?_

 _It's only love and that is all_

 _But it's so hard loving you_

 _Yes, it's so hard loving you, loving you..._


End file.
